Letters For Emily
by Coin Operated Boy
Summary: Professor Twyla Wendle's correspondence with her schoolfriend Emily. Strange things are happening at Hogwarts, and Twyla is a suspect. Set postMarauders and preHarry's arrival.
1. Chapter 1

Emily, my dearest friend and confidante - 

In my last letter, I wrote of the recent happenings here at Hogwarts - the sudden disappearance of ingredients from Severus' cabinets, among other things.

I remember teaching Severus when he was a student. No doubt you'll remember him as well. He is not much different now from the way he was in school. Older, naturally, a little taller, but not much else has changed. Albus, for reasons I cannot even begin to imagine, has appointed him the Potions professor, after that nasty accident in the dungeons that left Renee blind. Of course we need someone adept at potion-making, but why Severus? It is no secret that he despises anyone not of pure wizarding blood.

More than once I've caught him eyeing me suspiciously, as if he believes I am the culprit taking the ingredients from his cabinets. It is a well-known fact that Renee and I used to experiment with new spells and potions; I can only assume that Severus believes Renee's absence will not deter me from furthering my work. He is mistaken, if this is what he believes. I do not have Renee's cleverness nor ingenuity. I am afraid that while I am rather handy with a wand, my knowledge of potions is somewhat limited. Even if it wasn't, what would be the point of raiding his supplies? I could very well make a trip over to Hogsmeade if I so desired. But then, that is Severus' way. He suspects much, especially of me. I cannot say that I've given him any reason not to.

The words we've spoken, though few, have always been sharp. No doubt he blames me for keeping him from the position he truly desires - professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts. I admit I was less than thrilled to receive the position as every Hogwarts student knows that no professor holds the job for more than a year. I would have gladly kept my position as professor of Muggle Studies, but who will argue with Albus? He has his reasons for appointing me to this position, I am sure.

I shall certainly miss Muggle Studies. How the Muggles manage to survive without magic is simply wonderful, and sometimes, I think, it is a pity we are not more like them. Perhaps I am biased, having grown up in with one Muggle parent and one wizarding parent, but I have always enjoyed using Muggle items. They are not as fast as magic, nor as easy; to mend a torn robe by hand takes far more time and effort than simply stitching by magic, but I find sewing to be a quiet and therapeutic hobby. I must say that without Renee's enthusiasm in spell-casting and potion-making, I may not have come to practice nearly as much magic as I do now. I do so miss the old days, Emily, when we ourselves were students here at Hogwarts. How much we have grown, and how much we have stayed the same over the years.

But I ramble. Back to the matter at hand. I hesitate to suggest that Severus is, in fact, the culprit behind the missing potions supplies. What reason would he have to lie? But he is a Slytherin. Who knows what goes on in his mind? Perhaps my reason for suspecting him is that he's confronted me several times about the matter, personally. His hair is still as greasy as ever, Emily, and his teeth - if it is possible - are more yellow now than when he was a student. Why the man doesn't simply whiten them with a spell, I will never know. He could do with a few potions for his hair, too. His temper is worse than ever as well.

I remember how sorry I felt for him that those four boys would torment him. I tried once or twice to intervene, going so far as to take points away from Gryffindor House for their actions, and what did they do? They stopped tormenting him in front of me. I tried to talk to him, Emily, truly I did, but his disdain for me was all too evident. He is no different now. What were his words to me? "I don't need help from you, from Evans, or from any Mudblood." I hadn't the heart to take points from Slytherin, even for that caustic remark. I am a Hufflepuff through and through, it seems.

Evans. Lily. Whoever thought she'd wind up with James Potter? James was a good student, in his own way, but a dreadful nuisance at times. Still, I was happy for them when I heard the news. I spoke with Lily a few times after the wedding. We didn't keep in touch as much as I'd have liked to, but I suppose that's natural. I still can't believe they're gone. When I heard the news - well, everyone else may have been celebrating You-Know-Whose fall, but all I remember was the shock I felt when I learned that Lily and James were dead. The Death Eaters were terrifying, but it seemed to me that they were always attacking other people, witches and wizards I didn't know, except perhaps in passing. I never thought they would strike so close to home.

And then Sirius Black went and killed all those Muggles, and Peter as well! I could not believe it then, and I hardly believe it now. He was a mischief-maker, just like James, but he never struck me as the malicious sort, unless he was tormenting Severus. And they say he laughed as he was taken away. I shuddered when I heard that. Thank goodness he's locked away in Azkaban. Sometimes I wish that these past years have been nothing more than a nightmare. I wish I could wake up and that none of this would have happened.

I cannot tell you how thankful I am that you left the country, Emily. There was not a day that went by that I didn't fear the worst, that I would go for my morning tea and someone would knock at my door to tell me that one of my dearest was murdered by You-Know-Who. Those were terrible times.

I am rambling again. You must forgive me, Emily. I have precious little time to sit and write these days, and I enjoy the moments I get. Perhaps if you are not too busy we could meet for a cuppa and talk about the old days as I am inclined to do. I would not mind seeing you again. There is so much to do, and a visit from you would certainly help to keep my sanity intact.

I will do my best to keep in touch. Christmas is almost upon us; would you be available to visit during our holiday? I shall see if Renee is available as well - we are sorely in need of a reunion.

Yours,  
Twyla


	2. Chapter 2

Dearest Emily,

Thank you for your prompt reply! I shall see you at Christmas. Renee has owled me; she will be at our little reunion. Can you think of anyone else we ought to invite?

Yours,  
Twyla 


	3. Chapter 3

Emily, 

I apologise for being so slow to reply. This past week has been quite full, and I have quite a lot to do. I am sure you don't want to hear about grading papers and the like, so I shall spare you the boring details.

Things are not going well between Severus and I. More ingredients have gone missing and he is absolutely certain that I am the one taking them. If the situation were less serious, I might laugh, but Severus has threatened to speak with Albus. I am fairly sure that Albus will tell him there is no reason to suspect me, but I admit Severus is beginning to grate my nerves.

It is my belief that the students are responsible for the sudden disappearance of Severus' supplies. After all, with the scant knowledge of potions I have, I know that beetles' eyes and the like are readily available to even underage wizards. What adult would be so desperate to get potions ingredients that he or she would have to take beetles' eyes and other such small things? If Severus were missing powdered unicorn horn, or boomslang skin, I might understand the cause for concern.

Quite frankly, Emily, I find his behavior to be frustrating, annoying, and rather irrational. I've heard the students complaining that he obviously favors Slytherin over the other three Houses. I simply cannot understand this reasoning.

The few Slytherins I remember from our school years were not particularly unpleasant, but I heard quite a few rumors that there wasn't a one of You-Know-Whose followers who weren't in Slytherin during their Hogwarts years.

That reminds me. I had nearly forgotten about Cordelia. Of course we shall invite her.

We must have made quite the group, the four of us. I suppose I was the model Hufflepuff, changing what I could and quietly accepting what I couldn't, trying to find the good in everybody. You were always a Gryffindor, through and through. Bold, outspoken, passionate in your beliefs. Renee could never have been anything but a Ravenclaw, with her voracious appetite for knowledge. And then, of course, there was Cordelia, the most unlikely addition to our group of friends. Cordelia was always so intent on succeeding, even if it meant skirting the rules or cheating a little. I think Renee always resented her a little for that. I recall the two of you were not the best of friends, either, but I was always in the middle, trying to find something for you two to agree on, wasn't I?

It will be good to have the group together again. Perhaps we can go to London for our holiday; my flat is just big enough for the four of us.

I look forward to seeing you, dear.

Best wishes,  
Twyla


	4. Chapter 4

Emily - 

Only two days until the holiday. Here's wishing you a safe trip, and hoping my owl reaches you before you leave.

- Twyla


	5. Chapter 5

One day until the holiday. I would send this to you, Emily, if you weren't currently on your way up. Silly woman, why didn't you ever learn to Apparate? Flying by broomstick is so inconvenient these days. Ah well. I'll see you tomorrow. 


	6. Chapter 6

Dear Emily, 

Well, it was certainly wonderful to see you again. I was glad to see Renee in such high spirits. She's been so depressed since she lost her eyesight; not being able to play with her potions has been wearing on her. Was it my imagination, or did Cordelia seem withdrawn? So unlike her to be so quiet┘ Ah well. Tomorrow the students come back to Hogwarts, those that didn't stay for the holiday. Hope your trip back was a safe one.

One question: whatever possessed you to charm your hair blue? I admit it was pretty, but on a witch your age? I'm going to hope it was simply a by-product of too much Firewhiskey.

Much love,  
Twyla


End file.
